Catch Me If I Fall
by GitaMerah
Summary: A thousand years ago, a curse forced Salazar to live like a ghost. Now, a thousand years later, he still roams the castle he once helped build. But no one notices him, not even the ghosts. That is, until one girl did. SalazarHermione
1. Chapter 1

Summary: A thousand years ago, a curse forced Salazar to live like a ghost. Now, a thousand years later, he still roams the castle he once helped build. But no one notices him. No one could see him. Not even the ghosts. And it had been that way for a thousand years. It was a dull existence. That is, until one girl starts to notice him.

Disclaimer: Look, if I was J. K. Rowling... would I be writing this? I don't own Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money out of this... unfortunately.

_Notes: For those of you following Murphy's Law, don't worry, I haven't abandoned it. I just wanted to get this fic out._

**Catch Me If I Fall**

**Chapter 1**

Every year it's the same. He watched the students come and go. He always made sure that he would be present during the sortings. Sometimes, he'd even chuckle at the silly songs that Godric's hat came up with. And when it was all over, he would roam the corridors again.

At first, he had hoped that he would at least be able to make some intelligent conversation with someone. But everytime he tried, he would be met with silence, empty stares, and eyes that see through him, _literally_. No one could see him. No one could hear him, no matter how loud he shouted.

Not even the ghosts knew of his presence.

He tried to leave messages, but found that he could not even do a task as simple as picking up a quill. Oh, he could sit, lie down, or lean against something, but that's about it. Everytime he reached for a book or a goblet, or almost any object, really, his hand met nothing but air. He could not grasp anything, grab anything. He could not even push a feather quill with his finger.

It was a horribly dull existence.

And so, he settled himself to watching the people around him.

Then, when summer came, he would roam the hallways again.

He tried to leave, but found that he couldn't. Like the ghosts of his castle, he was trapped. Trapped inside the very building he had built along with his friends.

Friends who had died nearly a thousand years ago.

He sat on one of the bleacher seats in the Quidditch pitch, watching the Slytherin team practice. As much as he hated to admit it, his beloved house's Quidditch team was in serious need of help. Oh, they were still sneaky and all that. They'll hex the other team if they could get away with it.

But no, that's not why he was bemoaning his house's Quidditch team this year. In was the fact that the team had not only lost their seeker, they had also lost a significant member of their house.

The Malfoy boy.

Who turned out to be a follower of the one they called Voldemort.

He sighed. And he had such high hopes for the boy. The Slytherin Quidditch team seemed to have lost some of their spirit this year. And he hadn't blamed them. Many among their ranks had divided loyalties during this war.

He shook his head. He had heard, and sometimes even seen, numerous dark wizards over the centuries. They tend to come and go. This one, however, caught his attention.

Because as dark wizards go, this was the first, and only one, who have been known to come back from the dead.

And _that_ intrigued him. Especially since he himself was trying to do the exact same thing.

Except he never died in the first place.

**To be continued...**

_Notes: Sorry, it's probably a boring first chapter. The first couple of chapters are going to be mostly descriptive. Sorry, it can't be helped. Salazar was incapable of conversing with anyone at this point. I promise, there'd be more interactions in later chapters. But for now, please bear with me. _

_Anyway, please review and tell me what you think!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

He was bored. There were no quidditch practices today, and the next tournament was still next month. On days like these, he would often go to the library. He had to admit, he hadn't done that for the last few centuries. Not being able to open a book or flip through pages tends to put a damper on one's enjoyment.

This time was different, however. No, it's not that he suddenly regained his ability to grab things and flip through books.

He simply found someone who could.

The Granger girl.

He no longer cared that she was muggleborn. She was useful, not to mention brilliant. She was a lot like Rowena, actually. He wondered why this Granger girl had been sorted into Godric's house instead. Although, considering some of the trouble she and her two boys had gotten themselves into, he was starting to see why.

Nevertheless, he had to admit, he hadn't seen a girl like her in centuries.

Which was why he was taking full advantage of her time here.

He had never seen a girl with such a thirst for knowledge. She was a voracious reader, that one. He had lost count of the number of books she'd read. And some of those books weren't even necessarily related to her classes.

And he had read every single one of them along with her. He hated the fact that he couldn't choose what to read, but at least he could read now, and finish what he read, too. Not many students in Hogwarts even bothered to read a book from cover to cover. This was why he decided to read along with Granger, instead.

Of course, tailing after a girl also meant that he would be privy to all of her teenage angst. Fortunately for him, the girl didn't have much of those. She wasn't one of those regular, simpering, make-up and fashion loving girls. Her problems hadn't been the normal ones that most girls her age have.

Not by a long shot.

He was there when she and her friends were running from the giant-three headed dog. He was there when she brewed the polyjuice in her second year (though admittedly, after her unfortunate accident, he had to leave her and follow the two boys instead, lest he miss some good tidbits of information). He was there when she faced her werewolf teacher. He had lost trail of her sometime the dementor attacks, although he heard something about Sirius Black escaping. He had no doubt that she and the Potter boy were involved in that one as well.

And then there was the fourth year. Now _that_ was an eventful year. He hadn't had that much entertainment in centuries. Admittedly, his time had been somewhat divided between her and the Potter boy. Naturally, the boy intrigued him as well. No one got into more trouble than that boy. And the boy didn't even have to try. Trouble seemed to find him, no matter where he went. He almost felt sorry for the boy. Almost.

And then came fifth year. And _that's_ when the teenage angst finally began. He usually left whenever she and the Weasley boy started their usual arguments. He had no interest in those things, anyway. But he knew Hermione well enough that she would eventually return to her books.

Especially her _Hogwarts, a History_ book.

He smiled. If only she knew that the very person whose life she was reading about had been standing next to her this whole time.

She must have read the book so many times, even _he_ started to memorize some of its paragraphs.

Then came the sixth year. It had started more calmly than the previous years. But, knowing what had happened the past five years, he knew that something was bound to turn up sooner or later. It had been that way since the Potter boy came to school, and Salazar had gotten used to it. He even started to look forward to it. He hadn't had this much entertainment in centuries (not that he was particularly overjoyed when he learned of Cedric's death). Admittedly, it was a rather sordid way to pass the time. Then again, what else was he supposed to do around here?

But he never expected murder to occur on his castle. And by a trusted teacher, no less! It was worse than when the Chamber had first been opened more than fifty years ago. Because this time, it was the Headmaster who was murdered, and not some inexperienced student of questionable defense skills.

Salazar sighed. That had been months ago. He heard rumors that the school would be closed, and he couldn't help but feel disappointed. This was the castle that he, Godric, Rowena, and Helga had built together. This was their legacy.

This was also his only remaining link to the three friends whom he would never see again.

Thankfully, the school remained open, though he wasn't exactly sure what happened during summer that caused the Ministry to let the school continue to run. Nevertheless, he was grateful.

He looked around for signs of Hermione. Sure enough, there she was in the corner, reading. He strode towards her and peered over her shoulder to read what she was reading. It was her Advanced Transfiguration book. Somewhere in the back of his non-corporeal memory, Salazar recalled McGonagall giving her seventh years an assignment, in preparation for becoming an animagi.

He had to admit, she had grown up nicely over the years. Her bushy mane had tamed into wide brown curls. And her body, well... he'd rather not think about it, lest he find himself harboring inappropriate thoughts about her.

Suddenly, she frowned, and looked over her shoulder.

Salazar stepped back. She had seen him? Impossible! No one could see him!

Hermione was looking around, as though she had felt something and was trying to find out who had interrupted her. She frowned in confusion, then shook her head and resumed her reading.

Salazar sighed in relief. She _hadn't_ seen him!

Still, it was the first time anyone had even had such a reaction. Even Peeves never noticed his presence, and that particular poltergeist had a penchant for noticing people... although usually for less-than-chivalrous reasons.

Would it be so bad if she did?

It had been so long since he had human company.

True, he had spent a lot of time with Hermione. But watching was not the same as conversing with someone. And oh, how he longed to be able to hold a conversation again. _Any_ conversation would do.

Suddenly, he found himself wanting to test her reaction. He stood close to her again and peered over her shoulder.

Nothing happened.

Salazar sighed in disappointment. He should have known.

Perhaps she _hadn't_ noticed him after all. Maybe she had heard something (though he was sure that the library had been quiet). Salazar stepped away. He couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. Part of him wished she would notice him.

Suddenly, she looked up again and looked around in suspicion.

Salazar's eyes widened. So she _had_ noticed! He leapt up. He couldn't help but feel somewhat elated. Could she see him? If he spoke, would she be able to hear him?

"Who's there?" She whispered as she looked around. "Harry? Is that you?" She swiveled around and started searching the air with her hand.

Her hand passed right through him.

Salazar frowned. She definitely noticed him, but she still couldn't see him, nor could she touch him. Would she be able to hear him if he spoke? He had to try.

He took a deep breath. He hadn't spoken in centuries. Hadn't needed to. He couldn't help but feel slightly nervous. How would she react if she heard him? Would she scream and run away?

He certainly hoped not.

"H..Hermione?" Salazar said in a whisper, as if he was testing his voice. It felt odd to speak after being silent for such a long time.

She did not react. She was still frowning and looking around.

Salazar tried again. Louder, this time. "Hermione!"

Hermione shrugged, then went back to her reading.

Salazar sighed in disappointment. He watched her for a minute. Somehow, he had lost interest in reading. Salazar hung his head low and leaned against a nearby wall. This was hopeless.

Still, she _had_ felt something.

But it was not enough. He wanted her to be able to see him and hear him. He had gone without a proper company for _so_ long, that the mere possibility of having another human being to speak to made his chest hurt with longing.

He stared at Hermione. She was the first, and only person who had ever showed even the slightest reaction to his presence. Perhaps there was hope yet, though he did not know what good it will do if all she could do was feel his presence from time to time. Still, this was progress.

He decided to follow her. Not just when she's in the library or when she's sneaking around trying to rescue someone, either. No, from this point on, Salazar Slytherin decided he wasn't going to let Hermione Granger out of his sight... well, except when she goes to the bathroom, that is. He may be in the 21st century, but that didn't mean he had to act like a 21st century, hormone-induced teenager.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

He sat on a nearby chair and watched Hermione as she slept. He had to admit, while this was a rather boring way to pass time, she did look adorable when she sleeps.

Salazar blinked.

Did he just call her... adorable?

Come to think of it, since when had he progressed from calling her Granger to Hermione? Salazar frowned. He hadn't even noticed the change. It must have been at least a few years ago. He sighed. He had to admit, he had never spent more time watching any other student than he did Hermione.

Oh, sure, he had watched the Riddle boy. How could he not? The boy _did_ claim to be his descendant, after all, although Salazar had no idea how the boy came about this information.

But Hermione, well... contrary to what her two Gryffindor boys might believe, she was rather entertaining to watch. Besides, how else was he going to be able to read books? It's boring enough having to watch people day in and day out.

He looked at the woman now sleeping on her bed. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of admiration. She had gone from being a bouncy eleven year old (yes, he remembered how she would bounce on her seat everytime she raised her hand in class) to a tall, confident, eighteen year old Head Girl with dueling skills that could send most of his students scampering.

Salazar sighed. In less than a year, she would be graduating. And then she would be out of his life, possibly forever.

He felt a sharp pang in his chest. Salazar's eyes widened, as if he just realized something.

He was going to miss her.

He rose from the chair and approached her bed. Then, he sat at the edge of her bed, watching her as she sleeps. On impulse, he reached forward to touch her face, knowing that his hand would meet nothing but thin air.

His hand passed right through her, just like before.

Suddenly, she flinched and turned away from his hand. Almost unconsciously, her hand lifted up, as if trying to swat something away from her face. Then, she settled back down. She sighed. Soon, her breathing calmed again.

Somewhat startled, Salazar withdrew his hand. He didn't think she would feel that.

He stood up and turned to face her window.

Why was this happening? He had watched her for years, but she never noticed him until today. So why now?

Salazar sighed. He paced back and forth before finally settling back on the chair. He couldn't think of a single thing that could be different. Except, tonight he decided to follow Hermione up to her bedroom, but she had started noticing him even before he went up to her bedroom.

No, it has to be something else.

Was the curse that had gotten him into this state finally weakening?

If so, why was she the only one who could sense him?

Salazar wasn't sure. Perhaps he ought to try to get close to the others tomorrow. Wait... he didn't have to wait until tomorrow. Hermione had felt him even in her sleep. If others can feel him too, then perhaps they'd have the same reactions as Hermione.

He went downstairs towards the nearest room. It was the 7th year girl's room. Hermione, being Head Girl, had gotten her own, private bedroom. He approached the nearest girl and tried to touch her face. Like what happened to Hermione, his hand went through her face.

Unlike Hermione, however, this girl didn't stir.

Salazar frowned. Perhaps Miss Brown was a heavy sleeper? He decided to move on to the other girl. This one didn't react either. Salazar sighed. Perhaps it was only Hermione who could sense him.

Then, inspiration struck him. What about Potter? The boy seemed to be more sensitive towards certain things. Perhaps Potter could sense him too. Salazar descended down the girls' dormitory. Inwardly, he was thankful that the spell he, Godric, Rowena, and Helga had set up on the stairs of every girls' dormitory had not affected the Founders themselves or the teachers. After all, if anything went wrong, or if the girls were in danger, who else could go up and rescue them?

He went up the boys' dormitory and went into the 7th year boys' room. He searched the beds for a certain, messy haired boy with a tell-tale scar on his forehead.

Sure enough, there he was, sleeping like a log in his bed. Salazar walked up to Potter's bed and passed his hand through the boy's face.

The boy didn't stir.

Salazar sighed in disappointment and left. Apparently, only Hermione could sense his presence.

But why?

Why only her?

He didn't know what to think. He went back upstairs to Hermione's room and decided to wait in her room instead. He seemed to be making much more progress around her than around anybody else.

Having nothing else to do, he simply sat here, watching her as she sleeps. It _was_ boring, but nowhere near as boring as the long stretch of summers that he'd had to endure for centuries.

In short, he'd gotten used to waiting.

oOo

He had tried for a whole day to get a reaction out of everyone else. No one noticed him, except for Hermione, which baffled Salazar even more. Why was Hermione able to notice him? Why couldn't the others feel his presence?

And that's not all.

She wasn't always able to notice him. Most of the time, when he tried to experiment, he would get no reaction out of her. At other times, however, when he was lost in his own thoughts and was either standing close to her or reaching out to her, she would notice.

Eventually, Salazar gave up experimenting. It never worked. For some reason, if he deliberately tried to touch her, for the simple purpose of getting a reaction out of her, she wouldn't notice. It was only when he had other intentions or had done so by accident that she would notice.

He would simply have to continue following her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

A month had gone by. Salazar had started to get used to the idea of following and watching her all the time. Of course, she _had_ been suspicious whenever she accidentally felt his presence, but she'd always brushed if off after checking to make sure that no one was there. Salazar had even caught her wondering at her own sanity at one point when she felt his presence (but not detect anyone around).

He'd been following her so often lately that he hardly even left her side. Since she never went to quidditch practices, he hardly went himself.

One day, while reading along with Hermione in her room, Salazar realized with a start that he had missed his Slytherins' quidditch practice. And surprisingly, he didn't mind.

Salazar blinked.

When had _that_ ever happened? Salazar frowned. He _never_ missed quidditch practice. They were the highlights of his dull and horribly long 'life'. But the more he thought of it, the more he realized that, in the past month, he had missed at least three Slytherin quidditch practices. And not once had he even noticed.

He stared at Hermione, who was so intent on reading her Charms book that she hardly noticed anything else around her. Her cat, Crookshanks, sat at the far corner of the bed, sleeping.

It was then that he realized _why_ he didn't mind missing quidditch practices so much.

He realized that his time with her was growing short. As long as Hogwarts continues to hold tournaments, he would always have quidditch practices. But he would only have Hermione for another six months. And then she would be gone. Forever.

He didn't like to think about it. He wanted her here, in Hogwarts, preferably forever.

He reached out, but stopped short of touching her. No, he didn't want to bother her. She needed to study.

Suddenly, she looked up and turned towards his direction. She frowned, then blinked. She shook her head, as if trying to clear her vision. She looked, then blinked again.

Salazar frowned. What was happening? Could she see him?

"Hermione?" Salazar said, forgetting for a moment that she couldn't hear him.

Hermione gasped and scooted back. She glanced towards his direction, the fear evident in her eyes. "Who's there? Who are you?"

Hearing her voice, Crookshanks looked up. The cat meowed, apparently thinking that Hermione was talking to him. But Hermione wasn't even looking at her cat.

Salazar's eyes widened. He stood up. He watched as Hermione's eyes continued to follow his general direction, but never really focused on him.

"Hermione, can you hear me?" Salazar asked. His voice shook with anticipation. Could she really hear him?

She nodded hesitantly. "Who... who's there? Harry? Is that you?"

"I'm not Harry," Salazar said.

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. Instantly, she whipped out her wand and waved it around in his general direction. Again, her eyes weren't focusing on him, but she did seem to be able to tell where he was standing.

The poor cat of hers looked utterly confused. It stood up and sniffed around. Apparently, it couldn't hear or see Salazar, unlike its mistress.

"Then who the hell are you?!? If you're a Death Eater..." Hermione's grip on her wand tightened.

"I'm not a Death Eater, either. Hermione, I'm not going to hurt you. Even if I wanted to― which I don't, I assure you ―I can't," Salazar said.

"Wh... what do you mean, you can't?" Hermione asked.

Salazar frowned. Why was she not looking at him properly? "Can you see me?"

Hermione frowned. She narrowed her gaze, as if she was trying to focus on him. Then, she shrugged. "I see... something... like a shadow or an outline, but nothing more."

Salazar sighed. That explains why she wasn't focusing on him, even while she was looking in his direction.

"You haven't answered my questions. Who are you? And what did you mean, you can't hurt me?" Hermione asked. Her cat meowed, but she ignored it.

Salazar reached out a hand. Hermione backed away. Good. At least she can see well enough to know where his hands were.

"Try to touch me," he said.

She hesitated.

Salazar sighed. He supposed, he couldn't blame her for being paranoid. She certainly had reason to, what with the Death Eaters threatening her life everyday. "Fine, then throw a pillow at me, or something."

Hermione frowned. But, she supposed, a pillow would be far less risky than going over and touching him herself. She reached for her pillow and threw it at him.

It went sailing _through_ him.

Hermione's eyes widened. Then, mustering all the courage she could get, she reached out and tried to touch him. Her hand went through him, as though there was nothing there but thin air. Then, to Salazar's surprise, Hermione's shoulders relaxed visibly, as if she'd suddenly realized that she was safe.

"So, you're a ghost." Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"Not exactly," Salazar replied.

"What do you mean, not exactly?" She lowered her wand. By now, her cat had finally given up on trying to understand its mistress. If cats could give their mistresses strange looks, Crookshanks certainly would have. In sniffed indignantly. Then, it curled up again at the corner of the bed and went back to sleep.

Salazar couldn't help but feel elated when she lowered her wand. _Good_. She was beginning to trust him. "I was never dead."

"What?" Hermione blinked. "You're not a poltergeist, are you? I mean… you don't seem mischievous like Peeves is. Are you... _were_ you human?"

"Yes," Salazar said. He sighed. "A long time ago, I got into a duel with a wizard who... ah... wronged me. He hit me with the Curse of the Living Death."

"The Curse of the Living Death...?" Hermione frowned. She tried to think of where she might have heard of such a curse.

"You'll not find that in any of the libraries here," Salazar said with a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Why? What kind of curse is it?" Hermione asked.

Salazar chuckled. "Ever the inquisitive know-it-all, aren't you?"

Hermione froze. "How did you know about me?"

"I've been here for years, Hermione. _Centuries_. Your penchant for knowledge isn't exactly a secret amongst the students here," Salazar said.

Hermione started to blush. Then, something about his words caught her attention. "Wait, did you say centuries? Just... how long ago was that duel of yours, anyway? And what did the curse do? Is it anything like the Draught of the Living Death?" Hermione asked.

"I'll answer the part about the curse first, _then_ maybe you'll listen to the rest of my story," Salazar said.

"Fair enough," Hermione nodded.

"The Curse of the Living Death is part of the dark arts. Let me assure you, it is nothing like the Draught of the Living Death. No, this is far worse. Simply put, it is a step away from the killing curse. That is why you won't find it in the library here at Hogwarts. What it does is that it transforms the victim into a state that is not unlike that of a ghost, except for one, minor difference," Salazar said.

"And...?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"Unlike your Sir Nicholas here, no one can see, feel, or hear me. In essence, though I am still in the world, I am dead to it. Not even the ghosts could see me. I have gone for centuries without anyone ever noticing my presence. You, my dear, are the first to ever notice me, much less hear my voice," Salazar said.

Hermione frowned. "Why me?"

Salazar gave a long sigh. "That, is exactly what I'm trying to find out myself."

Hermione was silent. She sat back on her bed, staring at his outline. "Could you do magic?"

Salazar gave half a laugh. "I can't even hold a wand. How am I supposed to do magic?"

"I've seen Peeves steal people's wands before," Hermione said.

"Yes, but you're forgetting something. I'm not a ghost. You can _see_ ghosts, and hear them. I, however, go about unnoticed even by ghosts. Peeves can knock those armors around. I can't even touch them, much less knock them around," Salazar said.

"You still haven't told me your name." Hermione said.

Salazar looked away. He hesitated telling her his name. He wasn't sure how she'd react to this. He wasn't blind. He knew his reputation in this century. His wayward descendant had been partly the cause of that tarnished reputation.

He looked at her. Would she squirm away if she knew who he was?

The image of a certain werewolf suddenly came to mind. No, she hadn't been prejudiced about the werewolf.

Then again, that werewolf had ended up defending her.

Salazar never had that chance to prove himself. Given his reputation in this century, he wouldn't blame her if she'd run away the minute she finds out who he was. He decided to be cautious. "You may call me... Sal."

"Sal?" Hermione rose her eyebrows. "That's not your real name, isn't it?"

"It's... the name that one of my old friends would call me sometimes," Salazar said. Godric would sometimes call him that, if he thought he could get away with it. Of course, it had annoyed Salazar to no end that his friend chose to butcher his name so. But at the moment, he'd rather Hermione know him simply as Sal, rather than Salazar. He wasn't ignorant of the fear that surrounded his name these days. He knew all too well the evil reputation he had somehow gained— thanks to that so-called wizard who claimed to be his descendant. If Hermione knew just _who_ she was talking to at the moment, she'd only look on him with fear and suspicion. And that wasn't what he wanted. He hadn't made this much breakthrough in centuries. He couldn't afford to have her run away from him. Not now when he was finally starting to _interact_ with people again. Somehow, this muggleborn woman was the key to his freedom. And Salazar was determined not to let her get away, even if it meant sacrificing his true identity.

"I see," Hermione nodded, though he could tell from the way she looked at him that she wasn't entirely convinced. After awhile, she asked him another question, "So... how long have you been here?"

Salazar shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure. It's hard to keep track of time when you're sequestered in an environment that hardly changes over the centuries. I've learned to stop counting the years long ago. Had I not done so, I would have gone insane."

"Do you even have the slightest idea how long you might have been here?" Hermione asked.

"Well... I was already here when Nicholas Flamel first came to Hogwarts as an eleven year old," Salazar said.

Hermione's jaws dropped open. "But Nicholas Flamel is over six hundred years old! You must be―"

"Utterly bored." Salazar cut her off before she could get any ideas as to how long he'd been here. There was a hint of a smile in his voice. "As much as I love being in this castle, things do tend to get a little dull after a few centuries. And don't you dare call me old."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Eventually, though, her curiosity kicked in again. She asked, "Why are you here? With me, I mean."

Salazar shrugged. "You're the only one who can sense my presence."

"So you decided to hang around with me?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"Yes." Salazar replied.

"I don't believe you," Hermione looked at his shadowy outline suspiciously.

"Believe what you will," Salazar said with a shrug. Then, he moved to the chair and sat down. He noticed that Hermione's eyes followed his movement as he walked. "Put yourself in my shoes, Hermione. I've been here for centuries without anyone being able to see, hear, or touch me. I can't touch anything, either. My hand passes through whatever I try to touch. I cannot read, write, or even hold a wand. Quite a boring existence, let me tell you. And then you came along. You started to notice my presence, even before you heard my voice."

Hermione frowned. He could tell that she was thinking. All of the sudden, her eyes widened and she gasped. "The other day! In the library! That was you?!?"

"Yes," Salazar said. "I didn't think you'd notice. And when you did, I was intrigued. Like I said, no one's been able to do that before. So I decided to follow you and see what happens. And as you can see, or rather, hear, something _did_ happen, or we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

Hermione's gaze narrowed suspiciously. "Why were you in the library? I thought you said you couldn't touch anything? Doesn't that mean you can't flip through books as well?"

Salazar smiled. Nothing much gets past her, doesn't it? "I can't. But _you_ can."

Hermione frowned in confusion. Then, she gasped when she realized the implication. She stared at him indignantly. "You were reading over my shoulders?!?"

He had to admit, he felt slightly embarrassed at being caught. "I was bored. It's not as though I could go out and play quidditch."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, then changed her mind and closed it again. "Still... I could have been writing a diary!"

"But you weren't," Salazar said simply.

"But I _could_ have!" Hermione insisted.

"After what happened in your second year? I doubt you'll be very fond of diaries after that," Salazar said.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "What did you know about that?"

"Every single _creature_ in the school knows, Hermione. It wasn't exactly a secret. Besides, I saw the blood written on the wall. And I was there when your friend Potter gave the diary― along with the dirty sock, by the way ―to a rather irate Mr. Malfoy," Salazar said.

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "You know, I would have loved to have been there, if only to see Malfoy's face when he got the dirty sock."

Salazar laughed as well. "Well, let's just say he wasn't pleased."

"No, I bet he wasn't," Hermione smiled. Then, she looked at him. "Why _were_ you reading over my shoulders, anyway?"

Salazar shrugged. "I was bored. I wanted to read, you just happened to be reading. It was a convenient situation, that's all."

"Oh. That was it?" Hermione frowned.

"What, were you expecting some ulterior motive?" Salazar frowned.

"Honestly? Yes." Hermione said.

Salazar shrugged. "Believe what you will. Let me tell you something, when you've had centuries with nothing to do but to watch people, you'll take whatever entertainment you can find, even if it meant reading over people's shoulders."

Hermione thought about it, then shrugged. "I suppose. How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Do you honestly believe that me reading over your Charms textbook would give Voldemort an advantage in this war?" Salazar asked.

"Er... no, I suppose not." Then, Hermione gasped. "You said his name!"

"Yes. So, what of it?" Salazar replied non-chalantly.

"No one says his name around here! Well, except for Harry, and Professor Dumbledore, when..." Hermione's face fell. She trailed off, thinking of Dumbledore's death.

Salazar sighed. "Professor Dumbledore was a good Headmaster."

"Yeah," Hermione smiled wistfully.

"A bit insane, sometimes. But generally good," Salazar added.

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. "I do miss him. Hogwarts isn't the same without him."

Salazar did not answer. He looked out the window and let out a long, deep breath. "This war has put quite a toll on everyone here. There's a lot less laughter here than it used to be."

Hermione looked at his silhouette. Though she couldn't see his face, she could hear the sadness in his voice. "What was it like, back in your time?"

Salazar smiled wistfully, though he knew she couldn't see it. "It was... simpler. Children were simply children back then. They weren't burdened by thoughts of war. Most were awed by the castle. Most had probably never seen anything quite so big in their entire lives. On a warm day, you could look outside, where the Quidditch pitch is now, except we didn't have that back then. And I would see children laughing, playing tag, although admittedly, there were the occasional squabbles and hexes being thrown about. Lucky for them, hexes back then weren't as developed as they were now. Duels between children were much less... violent. Unlike the ones I've seen— particularly between your old teacher, Snape, and James Potter. Now _their_ duels were violent."

Hermione gasped. "You knew James Potter?!?"

"I've watched him and his friends, yes. Their duels with Snape weren't exactly discreet at the time. I can't tell you how many times I've heard Madam Pomfrey complain about the number of times Potter and Snape found themselves in the Hospital Wing. And Black too, sometimes. Although, admittedly, Potter and Black were usually worse off than Snape," Salazar said.

"What else do you know about them?" Hermione asked rather eagerly.

Salazar tried to remember. He remembered Potter's, Black's, and Snape's duels because of the amount of blood that usually went spattering about everytime those three got into a fight. But he seemed to recall... ah, yes. "There were two more who usually followed them around. Lupin and Pettigrew. I don't remember much about Pettigrew. He must have been one of those quiet ones. I didn't even really notice him until your third year. _That's_ when I remembered that there had been four of them. Lupin, however, I will always remember. I've seen him transform several times. Quite an experience, that was. Those were the times when I was glad that no one could see or touch me, or he would have come after me for sure."

"He didn't exactly have a choice, you know," Hermione bristled.

"I am not condemning your former teacher, Hermione," Salazar said.

Hermione sighed. "Right. Sorry. It's just that... so many people had been so prejudiced about his condition. It isn't fair how they treat him! I wish they could see how nice he really is. He really _is_ nice, you know."

Salazar sighed. "Unfortunately, my dear, most people don't see beyond their fears. You were lucky you had a chance to get to know your former professor outside classroom. Most people never got that chance."

"Hmph." Hermione huffed. "I still think they ought to be more fair to him."

Salazar raised his eyebrow. "Why do I have the feeling that you're saying that because you wanted him back as your teacher?"

Hermione looked away. "Alright, I admit he was a better teacher than some of the ones we've been getting these past few years."

Salazar laughed. "Well, I can't deny that! I must say, these past six years have certainly been more eventful than all the centuries I've been here."

"Centuries..." Hermione frowned. She looked at his silhouette. "It really _has_ been that long for you, hasn't it?"

Salazar sighed heavily. "You have _no_ idea."

Hermione's gaze softened. "I'm sorry."

Surprised, Salazar looked at her. "Whatever for?"

Hermione shrugged. "Just... the idea of being here for centuries... it's a long time, especially when you don't have anyone else to talk to."

Salazar was silent. He looked away. He wasn't looking for her pity. Still, her sympathy was... welcome. Salazar smiled. She had always been the compassionate sort. It was... endearing, sometimes. Although he could think of a few times when her sympathy was definitely misplaced... particularly those involving house-elf freedom.

When he looked back at her, she had her charms book in front of her again. She started reading. And then, she paused and looked at him. She looked hesitant for a moment. Then, she took a deep breath and asked, "Would you... like to read with me?"

Salazar blinked. She was actually inviting him to read with her?

"Would it bother you?" Salazar asked.

Hermione shook her head and smiled. She sat on the edge of the bed and laid the book on her lap.

Smiling, Salazar got up from the chair and sat next to her. She opened the book to where she left off and scooted the book towards him so he could read along.

oOo

_A/N: I'm ALIVE!! I'm sorry for my long absence. I'd mulled over this chapter for ages. I was originally going to throw this one away and come up with a new one. But I changed my mind. Hopefully, this chapter would make up for my lack of updates._

_Some of you commented about Hermione's lack of reaction to Salazar. I hoped I had addressed them in the beginning of this chapter. Yes, she _did_ notice him. But, like most of us who suddenly got the 'chills' while we're alone, she simply brushed it off (after making sure that there's no one around under an invisibility cloak, that is). Canon-ly speaking, other than ghosts and poltergeists, there are no known creatures or spells in the wizarding world that could give you the feeling of someone invisible passing through you. Someone under an invisibility cloak would still have felt solid._

_About why Hermione was able to sense him, my only hint is this: one reviewer managed to guess the reason correctly. If that's you, then congratulations!_


End file.
